22 August 1994
by perfectworry
Summary: A mother and daughter watch the Quidditch World Cup in August 1994, when the world got turned upside down again .


Amalthea Freeman screamed herself hoarse cheering on the Irish team at the Quidditch World Cup. Usually, she rooted for France, but her team had fallen out of the running in a four day match against Bulgaria. Of course Amalthea would cheer for Ireland.

She jumped up and down in her seat, reaching up to catch the enchanted gold the leprechauns threw and staring entranced as the veelas danced. Then the game started, and the real fun began.

Her mother, Avarelle, tugged at her shirt for the umpteenth time that day to tell her to sit down, but inevitably, Amalthea got swept up in the excitement of the game and got back to her feet, screaming and stomping.

_Just like her father_, thought Avarelle. Quidditch matches were always nostalgic for her: she met Thomas at a Quidditch match. He was the Gryffindor beater and she was the Ravenclaw seeker. His team won, but she caught the snitch. Years later, he proposed to her at a game between the Hollyhead Harpies, her favorites, and his hometown team, the Montrose Magpies. The Harpies won that day.

Avarelle was wiping her eyes when Amalthea screamed and whooped and stomped her feet. "Ma, Ma! Krum's got the snitch, he's done it! Ma! Did you see? Krum caught the snitch but Ireland won!"

Avarelle hugged her squirming daughter and placed a kiss on her cheek. Amalthea wiggled out of her mother's grasp to shout and wave her emerald green banner.

She would have set off sparks with her wand in celebration, but she was only ten and it would be another year until she went to Olivanders. Today, she settled for chasing the green and orange sparks from her mother's wand.

They walked together back to the campground, Avarelle holding her daughter's hand to keep her from getting lost in the crowd while Amaltea pranced and whooped and and other Ireland fans smiled and waved to her. Amalthea grinned back at them and shouted "GO IRELAND!"

Mother and daughter were invited over to the tents with the spangled Salem Witches Institute banner between them in the camp site next to theirs. Avarelle gladly accepted the invitation and the drink she was offered and sat beside Sarah Bishop, a professor at the Institute, while Avarelle played with two younger girls, students Katherine and Cary. The girls took turns diving at each other, pretending to be Krum catching the snitch.

As the night wore on, the girls wore out and eventually they fell asleep in the grass by the magical campfire. Avarelle saw the unnatural way the fire burned and had no worry for her daughter's safety as she napped in the warm glow of the flames.

Professor Bishop and Avarelle talked well into the night. This was not Bishop's first visit to the U.K., but Avarella knew almost nothing about Wizarding culture in America, and she never lost the Ravenclaw curiosity she had as a girl.

The Salem Witches Institute, explained Bishop, was founded in 1692 by George Jacobs Jr. Avarelle enjoyed History of Magic as a Hogwarts student, despite Binns's best effort to ruin it for everyone, but he had only touched on the Americas, a brief mention of the role of Wizards in the rebellion.

Professor Bishop was explaining an initiative at the Institute, working with Native American Wizards and Witches on a research project about pre-colonial Wampanaoag magical culture. Avarelle was fascinated and had already exchanged addresses and promises to owl. Professor Bishop had even encouraged Avarelle to apply at the Institute, but Avarelle was too loyal to Hogwarts and had to turn down the generous offer.

They were both drooping with exhaustion and drifting in and out of a companionable silence, while the older Institute students partied nearby with some other Wizards and Witches, when they heard the first bang. Bishop and Avarelle both jumped, then looked guiltily at each other.

"Probably just the Irish team," said Avarelle, settling down into her chair again. She saw that Bishop had also drawn her wand at the sudden noise.

Bishop nodded in understanding. "The Red Cloaks win, we flip one magic carpet. The Red Cloaks win, we flip two."

Avarelle laughed again. Her heart rate slowed back to normal when the second blast resounded through the campground. The sound woke Amalthea, who covered her ears and frowned up at her mother.

"Thea," cooed Avarelle, "try to sleep. Do you want to go back to our tent?"

She would be loathe to leave Bishop's company, but both the Freeman family and the Institute witches would be camping for a few more days.

Amalthea rolled over, back to back with Cary, when the third explosion startled her into her mother's arms. This one was followed by the sound of laughter, cold and cruel and much too close for comfort.

Then they saw the masks.

"What?" asked Bishop, already on her feet.

"Death Eaters," whispered Avarelle, momentarily paralyzed with fear. Bishop's brisk response brought her back to herself.

"Katherine, Cary, to me!" she barked, and the twin girls scampered to her side. "Bradbury! Hobbs! Parker!"

The three older girls came running back from their party, casting charms on themselves to undo drunkenness.

"Mummy!" cried Amalthea, clinging to her mother. Her eyes were wide and her face pale in the moonlight.

"Shush, Thea," whispered Avarelle, trying to be soothing but afraid of drawing any attention to them. "Bishop, Apparate to the Stadium, quick! We'll meet at stand six. I'll take you from there!"

Bishop nodded and disappeared into thin air with Cary in her arms. Parker appeared beside her at the stadium a moment later with Katherine. Avarelle was already there with Amalthea.

"Bradbury, where's Hobbs?" demanded Bishop.

"She was right behind me-"

But Professor Bishop was already gone, no doubt to find her missing student.

"Abby is of Muggle descent," stammered Bradbury. "What if they can tell? The Death Eaters -" Parker put an arm around Bradbury's shoulders, but the shaking girl rambled on, "We thought we were safe. There were some sympathizers when I was little, mostly in the South - Georgia… but it's been so long since then!"

Avarelle was distracted by her own daughter, crying in her arms. "Shh, shh, baby. Mummy will protect you."

Thomas Freeman, Muggle-born wizard, Auror and the love of Avarelle's life, had died in a Death Eater attack like this nearly ten years ago. A few scattered remnants of You-Know-Who's followers gathered and attacked a conference on Muggle Technology in Wizarding Culture. Thomas had been one of the first Aurors on the scene before anyone knew what was really happening. Amalthea had been just a baby then, but she knew the story of her brave Auror father.

Professor Bishop reappeared with Hobbs, who had nearly spinched herself in panic.

"Bradbury, Side-Along with me. I'll take you to our house, you can come back and bring the others."

"I'll watch these ones," said Bishop, with her wand out. "Parker, don't leave Kathy's side for any reason. Bradbury, come back here and get Hobbs. We'll follow you."

Bradbury gripped Avarelle's arm and disappeared with the Freemans from the stadium grounds with a pop.

Less than fifteen minutes had passed since they heard that terrible laugh when Avarelle, Amalthea, and the visiting witches from the Salem Institute were gathered in the Freeman sitting room, shakily drinking tea and hot chocolate.

"Not what I would have liked to show visiting witches about life on this side of the pond, girls," said Avarelle.

"We've seen the worst and the best that Britian has to offer," said Bishop, kindly.

"It's nothing," said Avarelle. "Sorry it's probably not even as big as your tents."

The students and Amalthea slept on the floor of the parlor where Bishop and Avarelle could watch them through the night. The two women sat together in silence, each keenly aware of every sound and occupied with their own thoughts.

Avarelle was glad to have been able to help. Thomas would have done the same, if he hadn't stayed to fight. Taking in the visiting students for the night, especially now that their tent was most certainly destroyed, was the least she could do. It made her feel better about turning to run. There was a time when she would have stood her ground and even now part of her was screaming for vengeance for her husband's death; blood for blood, but she was a mother now. Amalthea's safety came before anything else: before revenge, before honor.

Anything less would be a disservice to the memory of Thomas, and Amalthea was all that Avarelle had left.

In the following year, the Daily Prophet loudly denied that You-Know-Who had returned, but Avarelle knew better. In the last moment before she Apparated away from the 422nd Quidditch World Cup, she saw the sickly green light in the sky and she knew in her heart it was the Dark Mark.

Amalthea enrolled in the Salem Witches Institute. Avarelle Freeman had lost her husband, Thomas Freeman; her sister, Alice Worthington; and her sister-in-law, Mary Freeman.

She wouldn't lose her daughter, too.


End file.
